


The Fairest of Them All

by JennLynn77



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Apologies, Bed Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Confessions, Endearments, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Important Conversations, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Roulette, Lots of dialogue, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post S4 TFP, Post-Canon, Second time description, Sleeping Together, Smut, Top John Watson, Virgin Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 01:02:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21485764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77
Summary: “Of all the places I’ve been, all the beauty this planet has on offer, you are still the loveliest thing my eyes have ever seen.”
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 38
Kudos: 240





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I am American, so all mistakes in Americanisms-Britishisms are my own. I have no beta, so every mistake is mine. (Even after I ran Grammarly.) If something is glaring, distracting, or completely wrong, please tell me. (Kindly.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy! If you do, please press kudos. If you really liked it, I'd love a comment! If you bookmark, I love you!!!

The Fairest of Them All 

“I should have thanked you for everything you've done for me, despite how I thought you'd react to it.”

“After what we’ve just done, I think you’ve thanked me enough.”

They were lying together in Sherlock’s bed, having just shown each other how much they loved each other for the first time. John was currently on his back; Sherlock pressed to his right side, his head resting on John’s right pectoral. His hair was damp, the sweat cooling, under John’s jaw. John’s right hand was lost in Sherlock’s coffee-coloured curls; his left across his own chest, though his left index finger couldn’t resist the curve of Sherlock’s right ear, a new plaster stuck to the lobe. John inhaled and held his breath at the sight.

Their romantic coupling began as many in their life had thought it would: There was a case, a cornered suspect, and a poor decision was made when her liberty was threatened. When the suspect brandished and fired a pistol at the pair, Sherlock did as he has always done when John’s safety was in jeopardy: He stepped in danger’s line of sight. As he pushed John from the path of the weapon’s bullet, he was grazed by it, causing a small sliver of skin to be torn from his right earlobe. At the sight of it, John’s face immediately paled as his hands grazed all over Sherlock’s face and neck. He removed his own scarf and put it to Sherlock’s bleeding ear. 

“How could you do that? Why? Why do you always do stupid things like that?” Sherlock’s right hand moved to cover the scarf, and with it, John’s shaking hand.

“I will never hesitate to protect you. Why are you surprised?” His tone was very matter-of-fact with a touch of annoyance.

John could only stand there and vainly try to control his breathing. Lestrade and his team screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley to head off the suspect as she ran away from the blogger and his detective. She intended to distract, not to kill. At the sight of Sherlock’s blood dripping onto his Belstaff-clad shoulder, John forgot everything they’d been doing that night. Her mission had been accomplished.

“Please stop ruminating, John. You’re being tedious.” Sherlock tried to maintain a bit of haughtiness, but his brain was still floating along with the oxytocin flowing through his veins. John exhaled the breath he’d drawn during the replay of the new memory. “The fact that someone I love was hurt tonight and I’m upset about it? That’s tedious?” John could feel Sherlock’s eyelashes tickling his breast. 

‘Ah. That word. That always throws him a bit.’

John began to slide his thumb across and back on the nape of Sherlock’s neck; to soothe him, to relax him. It appeared they were about to have ‘a talk’. 

Sherlock came back to himself rather fast: “It’s not the first time, and I’m sure it will not have been the last.”

John’s hand froze, Sherlock’s nape curl winding halfway around John’s thumb, much like his legs had done around John’s hips a short time ago. 

“I don’t just do it for you; I do those things for myself, as well. You know how selfish I am. If something were to happen to you, I would never survive it. Especially if there had been a way for me to prevent you from coming to harm. Being killed...” He shivered in John’s embrace. 

The timbre of Sherlock’s voice fell to that of a whisper: “The call of my 7% solution would be too strong to ignore. If you were to die, the solution would no longer be only 7%.” 

With just a few sentences, Sherlock was able to move John to tears. They rolled down his temple and into his ears. The enormity of what they were finally discussing took the tenacity from both of their voices.

“I knew who you were when I met you. I’m still here, 10 years later.”

And just like that, their voices were found once again.

“I know! That’s why I do the things I do! Why I did the things I’ve done! I want you to be here! I want you to live!” Sherlock scrambled to sit as he wailed. 

“I want you to live too, you fucking tosser!” John rose to meet him. They faced each other, suddenly furious, tears in John’s eyes, and then he noticed a few were clinging to Sherlock’s lashes as well.

“You have a child!” Thankfully, Rosie was still downstairs with Mrs Hudson, as they returned from their case very late in the evening and didn’t want to disturb her or their landlady.

“Oh! Don’t bring Rosie into this! You’ve been this way since we met! I have you both! At least I hope I have you; especially now.” The look on John’s face could best be described as beseeching. 

Sherlock’s demeanour immediately softened at the sight. He reached for John’s hands and took them in his own. 

“John. I have loved you for many years; for most of the time I’ve known you. For all the time I was away. I stepped off that roof to protect not only Mrs Hudson and Lestrade, but you. I care for them both, but if they came to harm, I would ultimately survive it. You? I speak to you when you’re not near; I hear your voice in my head, guiding me. All the time. You are my blogger, my doctor, my moral compass, the person I trust to translate for me a world that I largely do not understand. You are, without doubt, my conductor of light. My life would immediately descend into the dark after you breathed your last breath. If I have to sacrifice myself for you to go on, I will not hesitate.” 

“Christ. I can’t believe anyone who’s met you believes that bollocks of you being a sociopath.” John clambered to his knees and put his arms around Sherlock’s back; his soft hair back under his jaw. Sherlock let himself be held and lost a bit of his bluster at the sudden contact of their naked bodies. 

“Can we lie back down? Enough of this yelling lark. Get down here with me, yeah?” He sat on his heels and brought his hands to cradle Sherlock’s face, his left thumb drawn to the small bandage on Sherlock’s ear. 

“I don’t want us to yell anymore, okay?” 

Sherlock could only nod his assent. 

They settled back on the bed, but both lying on their backs, the ceiling seemed to be the safest place for their gazes to lay. They laid in silence for a while, the occasional wet sniff followed by the brush of a hand across wet eyes. Once they calmed themselves, John broke the silence.

“I have seen many beautiful places in this world. Have I ever told you?”

Sherlock could sense that John was getting to something important, so he laid there, and said, “You’ve mentioned a few places here and there, but nothing very specific.” 

“When I was in Afghanistan, in Helmand, there is a place where the Helmand river separates the valley from the desert. It is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen. The contrast of the two completely opposite sides running parallel along the strip of water slicing through them. I’ve also been to America. I saw The Grand Canyon. Standing there, you’ll never feel more insignificant. And I was in absolute awe of it. The silence was so loud, if that makes sense. I went to Greece with my army mates when we were granted a leave; Santorini is spectacular. I also visited a hometown of one of my Canadian army mates; he was from Ontario, and his family lived about thirty minutes from Niagara Falls. The Niagara River is one of the scariest and most powerful things I’ve ever seen.” John paused and Sherlock turned onto his left side and watched John as he reflected on his past, but remained silent. Sherlock was getting better at realising when people were working up to saying what was really on their minds.

“Of all the places I’ve been, all the beauty this planet has on offer, you are still the loveliest thing my eyes have ever seen.”

Sherlock swallowed hard. Disbelief closing his throat but hope springing eternal. 

“I know that sounds ridiculous. Especially to you, since you always said you thought my poetry was rubbish. But I mean it. I’ve seen so much, been through so much, and you have done nothing but sacrifice yourself for me. I’ve seen you do all you’ve done, and there was something in the back of my mind that kept telling me that you don’t feel things like that; you didn’t love people. Even though your actions disproved that theory over and over again. You didn’t run when I jumped on Moriarity’s back. You stepped off a roof and murdered your reputation to save me and the lives of others you care for. You walked straight into a fire to save me from dying in it while my fiancée stood and watched. You helped plan a wedding for the man you love because you thought someone else was better for him and his happiness. You shot someone in the head to protect someone who had shot you not long before, to protect me and the life you thought I should lead. You let yourself plummet to the depths of your addictions to pull me out of my own. You are the most selfless person I know. I’ve never said the words properly before tonight, but I’m going to get it right now: Thank you. For everything you’ve done for me, Sherlock. I cherish you. But, please, be careful with yourself. I could not bear it if I had to watch you die again.”

As if magnetised and inexplicably drawn to him, Sherlock immediately pressed to John’s side, pushing his forehead against the curve of John’s neck. 

“I know, John. I understand. I know what it’s like to live without you and I don’t want you to have to do that again. I will do my very best to be mindful of our circumstances when I need to make a choice.”

“No unnecessary risks. For either of us! No more jumping in front of incoming bullets, okay?!”

“I was merely trying to push you out of the way, but I was a bit slow for my own evasion.”

“You couldn’t possibly think you’re faster than a bullet? Do you?” The exasperation was fond. 

“Apparently not.” Sherlock deadpanned but John could feel Sherlock’s lips upturn against his neck. 

He got his arms around Sherlock’s back and pulled him closer. “You knob end.” He kissed the crown of Sherlock’s hair and skimmed his hands over the scars on his back. A grotesque reminder of all that Sherlock has sacrificed. The words were finally spoken; it was finally time for some peace.


	2. Chapter 2

They fell asleep that way; Sherlock in John’s arms. When they awoke, their positions had shifted during the night. John was pressed to Sherlock’s back, his left arm across Sherlock’s belly. Their hands found each other even in sleep, their fingers weaved together. 

Sherlock woke first. At the realisation that John was still there with him, and that his arm was draped across his torso, Sherlock’s sigh was a mixture of elation and relief. Last night had been the first time he’d ever engaged in a sexual situation with anyone. He was forty-three years old and John Watson was the first person he’d ever slept with, both literally and figuratively. He’s also never woken with a bedmate before this morning. The warmth of someone else in his bed a completely foreign, but apparently welcome, occurrence. 

Even in dreams, John was able to sense the change in Sherlock’s breathing; he stirred behind him.

“Not yet, Sher. Too early. Back to sleep.” He pressed his nose to Sherlock’s nape and inhaled, feeling to Sherlock as though he was being marked by a cuddly puppy. ‘Sherlock is mine.’ The ridiculously bathetic thought made him wince, but then tears were forming in his eyes. Happy tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this particular sentiment. Sherlock squeezed John’s hand harder than he’d realised and John woke up properly. 

“You okay? Do you need to get up?” John was slowly coming back to himself, his military training a hard habit to break. His hand went slack in Sherlock’s as he tried to let him up, but Sherlock’s grasp tightened.

“No! Don’t!” John could hear the tears on Sherlock’s cheeks in the sound of his voice.

“What’s the matter, love? Hmmmm? Talk to me.” He settled against Sherlock’s back and grasped his hand again. 

Oh, God; an endearment. John’s sleep-softness was difficult for Sherlock to process and that caused him to release a jittered breath. John kissed his neck, beginning to sense everything that was happening to the man in his arms. They’d spoken the night before of Sherlock’s inexperience with physical intimacy. John had never equated it with a lack of emotional intimacy before this moment. 

John just held him in his arms and kissed his neck, his hair; he dragged his thumb across the top of Sherlock’s hand where they laid on his stomach. Instead of talking, Sherlock’s body was telling him all he needed to know. John thought a funny story would help things along a bit: 

“I think I misspoke last night during my little diatribe about how amazing you are. I forgot to mention the night Rosie was born. That was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. I was the first person to see her. I delivered her on the backseat of my and Mary’s car. I’d have to say that’s got to be tied with you.”

Sherlock chuckled hard enough to jostle the bed. John could feel it vibrate through Sherlock's chest.

“If you were surprised I was still here when you woke up, you better get used to it. I’ll be here every night and every morning that you’ll have me.” Another kiss was placed on Sherlock’s neck, but this time, there was a nip added to punctuate his point.

“I would enjoy having you anytime you would like to be had.” Sherlock pushed his bum against John’s crotch, emphasising a point of his own. 

“This situation is taking a surprising turn. I, for one, am not disappointed in this shift in trajectory.” John pulled their hands down Sherlock’s belly and pressed him closer, and began to rub his quickly hardening cock. A gasp of surprise escaped Sherlock’s mouth and that spurred John’s action and tinged his words with suggestion.

“Would you like to go again, Sherlock? Because, if you would, I would like to be inside you again. Last night was marvellous.”

“You absolutely were, John.” Sherlock’s breathing was becoming laboured in spite of his attempt at indifference to John’s efforts.

“WE absolutely were. You most certainly were there. I have the scratch marks on the backs of my shoulders to prove it.” John was grinding against him with more gusto than he’d intended. Sherlock always brought out his passion, no matter the sort.

“I have the bite marks under my jaw and across my chest to prove you were there. I can’t wait for someone to see them.”

“Would you like some more?”

“Christ, yes.”

John pushed his right arm from under the pillow and placed his hand on Sherlock’s right cheek, pushing him to turn his neck. Sherlock obliged and John nipped under his ear and kissed his cheek. 

“Did you leave the lube under the pillows like I said last night?”

“I always do as you say, John.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the blatant lie.

“I’m glad you listened to me for once.”

Sherlock located the bottle and passed it back to John. His left hand released Sherlock’s left hand and flicked the cap open as soon as it was in his grasp. 

After their encounter the night before, John didn’t need to use too much of the lube, but he didn’t want to make Sherlock’s second-time painful if he could help it. He rolled to his back and slicked himself up and spread a bit around Sherlock’s hole. Sherlock gasped at the sensation.

“How about we stay like we were, hmmm? I think you’ll like it this way. If I do this right, you will be very happy that you have a prostate.”

“You made me aware of that fact last night, John. But, by all means.”

John knew the best way to get Sherlock out of his head was to get him talking, and if getting him to be a smug prat was the way to achieve that end, those were the means John was prepared to traverse. 

John got back to his side and settled the tip of his cock against Sherlock’s hole, the heat of his body becoming irresistible. 

“Ready?”

“Always.”

John pushed inside and Sherlock released a whine that he would deny making if you’d asked him.

“Lean back against me, love. Let me have your leg a mo’, yeah?” Sherlock was bewildered but did as he was asked. John grasped Sherlock’s left knee and set his leg down behind his own thigh; his foot flat on the mattress.

“There, now. How’s that feel?” John breathed the words into his ear and then kissed his left shoulder as he pressed further inside Sherlock. 

John knew it felt miraculous, but Sherlock was already beyond words. His throat produced a sound that could only be described as a growl.

“Give me your hand, sweetheart. Hold on to me.” 

Their right hands found each other on top of Sherlock’s pillow and Sherlock was already writhing in John’s arms. The heel of Sherlock’s foot now pushed against John’s ass, encouraging the cadence of John’s hips.

“That’s it. Keep your foot behind us; give me the room I need to make this good for you.” John’s right knee pushed Sherlock’s right thigh forward and then his left hand found its way back to Sherlock’s warm skin. He dragged it in circles over his chest and belly, scratching his nail across the coarse hair around Sherlock’s leaking cock. The right half of Sherlock’s body was on the bed, his left half against John’s heaving chest. His hand settled over Sherlock’s heart and he pressed his hand against it, feeling it pound against his palm. As the ferocity of John’s thrusts increased, Sherlock went limp in John’s arms. Each forward press lifting Sherlock off the bed.

“Don’t you ever leave me again, Sherlock.” John gasped the words against Sherlock’s shoulder. “Not like that.” He kissed Sherlock’s neck.

Sherlock knew what he meant.

“Never again.” He laid his arm across John’s. 

“I go with you if it’s time for you. Not gonna be apart from you again.” John’s thrusts intensified, his aim for Sherlock’s prostate unerring. 

“Together, like we were meant to be. John! Yes!” Sherlock spilt his release on his own stomach and pelvis. John could feel Sherlock contracting around his cock and the inhalation that forced itself into Sherlock’s burning lungs. 

“Sherlock! Oh, fuck! Yes!” John managed four more thrusts and then he was emptying himself inside him.

They rode their pleasure out together, panting in each other’s embrace. John kissed and nibbled at Sherlock’s neck as his thrusts turned lazy and Sherlock began to relax in his arms. He stayed inside Sherlock until he softened enough to slip out of him.

“I meant that. Mean that. What I said. That wasn’t just heat-of-the-moment stuff there.”

“I know, John.” He brought their joined hands to his mouth and kissed John’s knuckles. 

“I meant every word, as well.” 

“You go, I go.” John settled against Sherlock’s sweaty back, not caring about the mess they’d just made of the bedding.

“You stay, I stay.” Sherlock managed to verbalise his thought before falling asleep in John’s arms. As always, John was right behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please press kudos. If you really liked it, I'd love a comment! If you bookmark, I love you!!!
> 
> If you're wondering why there's less preparation in the penetrative sex scene, these two links will explain. Nothing like having a few gay men tell it like it really is to make you reevaluate your writing technique!
> 
> https://reverie-indigo.livejournal.com/5686.html
> 
> https://www.squidge.org/minotaur/classic/eroc.html?fbclid=IwAR1eb-9SAzTwcrySDBvPAytSlABYeUuw-JhBIqOYZyEXV0veCiHA0JANe10
> 
> Come find me on Twitter https://twitter.com/ldystnly
> 
> ...and on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/johnyouareamazingyouarefantastic


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